Five Teagan
Five
Teagan
H aving tennis back in my life is a game changer. Charity and I play again on the following Saturday. After years of feeling as if I’d lost a part of myself, it’s finally back. I’m having fun again. A feeling of thinking anything is possible returns. I know it’s not true; I’m not invincible. However, it’s given me the pick-me-up I need to tackle a dinner with my parents on Sunday.
Typically, I limit my interactions to the holidays and the occasional birthday. And wouldn’t you know, it’s my father’s birthday and I’ve been summoned to dinner at their four-bedroom, three-bath house in Camelback East. It’s not our family home in San Antonio where I grew up and where I met the Gems. Instead, my father received a promotion to his company’s headquarters in Phoenix, and he and Mom moved here after I decided to play tennis professionally.
To state Russ Williams is controlling is an understatement. My mother can’t do or spend anything without running it by him first. He’s got to be in control of her every waking minute. When I lived under their roof, it was the same way. Once he realized I was good at tennis, he had to control what I ate, what time I went to sleep, how long I practiced and who I practiced with. I had to do exactly what my father said.
Went I went pro, I took control of my life and called the shots. It was thrilling and exciting—until it wasn’t. When I was injured, my father went back to taking care of everything again . My father never let me forget that I should have listened to him and stayed the course. Instead, I got enthralled by a man and look what happened.
His words haunt me as I drive to his home with a bottle of his favorite bourbon. It set me back several hundred dollars, but you can’t come to Russell Williams’s house with anything but the best. It’s unacceptable in his book.
I pull into the driveway in my Mercedes-Benz GLE. With the financial straits Williams & Associates is in, the monthly payments are kicking my ass. But I refuse to show up on my father’s doorstep driving a used or low-end vehicle. I park the SUV and climb out. As always, I’m immaculately dressed even though it’s a family dinner. I’m wearing a single-breasted brocade buttercup Dolce & Gabbana blazer with matching button-down vest over fitted black slacks and Gucci slingbacks.
I arrive to the front door with the bourbon in hand. I don’t have a key to my parents’ house because that would mean my father giving up control. I ring the doorbell like everyone else.
Mama arrives in a beautiful studded long-sleeve top over a pencil skirt. She looks positively elegant. “Hey, Mama,” I say, and kiss both of her cheeks. Her sleek jet-black hair hangs like a curtain down her back.
“Teagan.” She accepts my embrace, but then steps back to inspect me. “Couldn’t you have worn a skirt or dress? Your father won’t be happy.”
“Sorry, I had a work engagement earlier.” It’s a lie. I wear what I want, but I’m trying to keep the peace. “Surely, this will do. It’s designer.”
“Of course, darling. C’mon in. Your father is waiting in the living room.”
I grab Mom’s arm. “How are you?” I inquire. Although my father has never physically touched her as far as I know, she doesn’t call me often because he tracks her calls.
“Is that you, Teagan? Come in here so I can get a look at you,” my father’s voice booms out.
I glance into her brown eyes and implore Mom to speak openly, but she doesn’t and motions me toward the living room. I paste on a smile and walk inside. “Happy birthday, Daddy,” I say, walking toward him. He’s seated in a chair that, if I’m honest, resembles a throne while the rest of us are relegated to a mere sofa in the king’s presence.
“Teagan.” His dark irises assess me, glancing me up and down. I’ve made sure not a hair is out of place. My father gives me a smile, which means I pass muster. “You’re looking well.”
“Thank you.” I incline my head and hold out the bottle of bourbon.
“My favorite brand, good girl. Please sit down and join your mother and I.” He inclines his head, indicating Mom and I can both sit down on the sofa. So we do.
“Tell us, what’s new with our favorite daughter?”
Their only daughter. Much to my father’s chagrin. He’d hoped to have a large family to lord over, but my mother had trouble conceiving and they were only able to have one child. Me.
“All is well.”
“That’s not what the news says. The real estate market is on the decline.”
I suck in a deep breath and remind myself to stay calm. “I’m staying afloat.”
“Staying afloat isn’t thriving. We Williamses thrive.”
“I know, Daddy, and…”
“Don’t interrupt me, I wasn’t done.”
My ears burn at his harsh tone. I want to rebut because he interrupted me , but my mother shakes her head.
“What are your plans to weather this storm?”
“Do we really have to talk business at dinner?” my mother asks quietly.
“I wasn’t talking to you, Olympia.”
I should have been ready for Daddy to rain hellfire down on me. Yet each time he does, I keep hoping things will change. “I’m working my contacts and I recently joined the Phoenix Country Club, which has led to some prospects.”
“Sounds like a waste of money if you ask me. You should come with me to some of my business meetings and let me introduce you around.”
“Thank you for the offer. I’ll think it over.”
“I heard the Phoenix Country Club has some lovely tennis facilities,” my mother adds.
“They do. I recently played with a friend.”
My father takes immediate notice of that statement. “You’re playing tennis again? Do you think that’s wise after your injury?”
“They never said I couldn’t play. Just not professionally.”
“All that money and time down the drain.” My father rises from his throne and heads over to the wet bar at the far side of the room, bourbon in hand. He pours himself two fingers in one glass, one for him and then another for me. Mama doesn’t drink, but since I was old enough to drink, Daddy always gave me one. Maybe because he wanted a son, but he only had me.
He brings over the tumbler and I accept. I take a measured sip, needing the burn of the liquor to help get me through the night.
My mother helps me out by saying dinner should be ready. We head into the adjacent dining room, where there’s an elaborate setup with three arrangements. I don’t know why Daddy insists on these grand affairs, but I play my part and take a seat while Mom brings out the first course.
Conversation is stilted during the four-course meal. I’m hoping to get out unscathed, but my father must have been waiting until dessert to end the evening with a real bang.
“Speaking of tennis, that young fellow you were so enamored with, he won another Grand Slam, the Australian Open.”
Damn. Why did he have to bring up Dominic now? Lately, my mind has been so caught up in the past. Ever since I started playing again, I keep thinking about everything that went wrong and how I could have done things differently.
“Is that so?” I ask, reaching for my wineglass.
“You sound surprised. You don’t follow him?”
“Why would I? Dominic dropped me like a hot potato when I tore my meniscus.”
“Yes, he did. It was an unfortunate injury to a promising career.”
“Do we have to rehash the past?” I inquire, eager to move on to another subject, any subject. This is downright painful.
“If you’re destined to repeat it, yes,” he says. “My advice would be to steer clear of tennis. Listen to your father and let me help you shore up your little agency.”
My little agency. My father has never respected my real estate business. The situation I’m in isn’t helping matters.
“Look at the time,” I say, glancing down at my Cartier watch. “I really need to go. I have an early showing tomorrow.”
“Do you have to go?” my mother asks. “Surely, you can stay for dessert?” Her eyes implore me to stay, but after talk of tennis, Dominic and my failures, I’ve lost what appetite I had. “I’m sorry, no, Mom. Next time?”
“Very well.” I can see she’s upset, but I beat a hasty retreat. I pass by Daddy long enough to kiss his cheek and I head for the door, but not before my father can land one more blow.
“And next time, Teagan, do try and wear a dress or something. It’s bad enough you persist in having that short haircut like a boy, at least a dress will make you appear more feminine.”
I don’t look back at his barb. Instead, I rush out and quickly stride to my car. Once I’m in my Mercedes-Benz, I release a loud scream. Why, why, why do I put myself through this and let him get to me? Because my mother is there. Caught in a web of her own making. I’ve promised to help her get a fresh start, but she is too afraid to leave him. I start my car and drive off, but I can’t escape the memories.
Maybe my father was right for once. I should never have gone down this path of playing tennis again. All I’m doing is opening up old wounds I thought had healed and leaving myself vulnerable to my father’s scrutiny.
Once again, I let him push my buttons, but I won’t follow his advice. If I do, he’ll take over my life, like he did previously. I have to listen to my intuition even if it’s digging up a hornet’s nest. Tennis once brought me so much joy, and playing again has sparked something within me. I can’t let it die. I won’t.
But the past is dead and buried and can no longer hurt me.
* * *
The rest of the week at Williams & Associates proves promising. One of the women I met at the country club, Joanne Cobbs, contacts me to sell her home in the Biltmore area. It’s a win. Her husband is getting transferred and she needs my help. If I sell her house, the commission will be a quarter of a million dollars. That would be the pickup the agency needs.
I happily show up to the country club on Saturday to meet with Charity. She is secretive about the meeting’s purpose, but I don’t care. I owe her one.
When I arrive, I find myself in a meeting with several other women.
“There you are!” Charity comes up to me in a sleek white tennis dress with contrast trim along the side that screams couture. “Everyone, I’d like you to meet my newest recruit to join our charity tennis tournament, Teagan Williams.”
“Tournament?” I glance at her wide-eyed. Why do I feel like I’m being ambushed again? First my father at dinner and now Charity. The hits keep coming.
“Of course, with your history in the sport, you’re a natural choice to help,” Charity replies.
Several pairs of eyes land on me. I have no choice but to ask, “What can I do?”
“This year’s Phoenix Desert Smash is supporting the Foster Alliance, formerly called Arizona Helping Hand. Their programs provide care for children in foster care. We’re hoping to garner some celebrities to help lend authenticity to the tournament,” Charity explains.
“We’ve already recruited a couple of Hollywood actors to join our effort,” one of the ladies adds.
“That’s awesome,” I say.
There is continued talk about sponsorships and how we can increase participation. I raise my hand in an effort to endear myself to the group. “I know a lot of businesses in the area. I would love to help out.”
“Way to pitch in, Teagan,” Charity says.
“What we really need, though, are some ATP or WTA pros on the circuit,” adds Mitzi, another brunette and the tournament cochair. “My husband says he’ll snag a big tennis star for us, but won’t tell me who. He’s pretty good friends with their agent. But I don’t want to solely rely on him. What if they are blowing smoke up his ass?”
I wonder who she’s referring to when her blue eyes land on me. “Charity mentioned you used to play professionally, Teagan. Perhaps you might have some contacts?”
Anyone I used to know wouldn’t dare answer a call from me. I’m persona non grata in the tennis world after my meltdown, but none of these women appear to know that.
“Of course.” I smile politely. “I’ll reach out to some folks.”
“Great.” Charity gives me a wink and the group continues talking about the event. Meanwhile, my mind races. How the hell am I supposed to come up with a tennis star?
Thankfully, the meeting ends within the hour, and Charity takes me aside to speak with me privately.
“Are you okay?” Charity inquires. “You seemed a bit flustered during the meeting.”
“There’s a lot in my past that you don’t know,” I reply. “Didn’t you look me up?”
Charity shrugged. “I know what I need to. We all have pasts, Teagan. I’m sure if you looked into mine, there might be some unsavory things I’m not proud of, but it’s made me into the person I am today, so I have to own it. The good and the bad.”
I stare back at her incredulously. “That’s pretty insightful.”
“I have my moments. If you ever want to talk to me about it, I’m happy to listen.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.” And I do, but when it comes to business, I’ve learned to play my cards close to the vest. If I want to confide in anyone, I talk to the Gems, but instead of contacting them by phone, I feel like a trip is in order. Calls are great, but it’s been a long time since I’ve seen my girls, and I could use some reinforcements .
They will understand how impossible it will be for me to find anyone in the tennis field to accept my call. My entire world changed after my blowup with Dominic was publicized. I was ostracized by everyone I knew, players and coaches. It hurt knowing everything I worked so hard to achieve went up in a puff of smoke.
And there’s only one person to blame.
Dominic.